


Aftermath

by Calicy



Category: Marco Polo (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-28
Updated: 2015-08-28
Packaged: 2018-04-17 15:17:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4671461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calicy/pseuds/Calicy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You and I,” Khutulun says, “We are not very different. You do not know because you do not see but it is true.”</p><p>Kokachin scoffs, “We are nothing alike.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aftermath

"I don't know what you think you are proving," Khutulun says. The blue princess does not flinch at her words, let alone react to them. Undeterred, Khutulun adds, "Starve yourself all you want. The Khan could care less."

The blue princess - Kokachin, her father had called her - still refuses to speak. Instead, she reaches out and shoves the bowl of rice away. Then, with intriguing intensity, Kokachin looks Khutulun in the eye, silent but defiant, in spite of everything.

"Do not think he spared you because you were valuable," Khutulun says, meeting her captive's eyes with equal force, "He withheld because his queen told him such would be more beneficial. He wouldn't care if you were dead or alive."

Kokachin looks upon Khutulun, her eyes dropping down across Khutulun's form and then up again. As if her appraisal has been concluded, Kokachin’s mouth crinkles and she turns away.

Stomping across the ger, Khutulun picks up a bit of rice and shoves it in Kokachin’s face. Despite being half Khutulun's size, Kokachin pinches her lips and rebels further.

Khutulun is not used to this. She had a reputation. Few disobeyed her.

"If you do not eat, my father will punish me," Khutulun says, "Then I will make you suffer."

"I stand in the blood of my people," Kokachin says. Her voice surprises Khutulun. "Do your worst. I am not afraid."

"I am no palace brat," Khutulun seethes, "I am Khutulun, daughter of Kaidu."

"Ah," Kokachin says, "I was wrong. My apologies. You are a self-important palace brat."

Khutulun pauses. Without meaning to, she chuckles. Kokachin looks at her, alarmed.

"I admire your forthright but do not think my thoughts are common. My father himself personally executed your parents, for their insolence to the Khan."

Kokachin’s' eyes widen. For a moment, Khutulun is certain the girl will cry until Kokachin speaks, her voice firm and certain, "They died honorably. I hope they did not suffer."

"My father was decisive," Khutulun says. The blue princess looks surprised at her compassion. Yet there is no point trying to break this girl. Khutulun is there to remove lecherous hands that might dare touch the girl.

Khutulun does not speak on the atrocious things she had seen in the aftermath of the battle. The king and the queen had been lucky beyond all measure when compared to the few who had survived the massacre. The Khan had made an example, not for the Bayaut who had been all but eliminated but those who would hear of this siege. The Khan wished to be feared and fear him, Khutulun did.

“I’ve heard of your father,” Kokachin says.

Khutulun watches her. There is something unsettling about the girl. Most give away everything, in the way they move and in the way they speak but not this princess. Transfixed by this curiostiy, Khutulun stares. The girl shifts under her gaze but gives nothing more.

“Have you? Do you know he is a man of integrity? Do you know he alone advised the Khan to spare your people?” Khutulun says. Finally, a softness spreads across the girl’s eyes. Pleased that she is beginning to understand this riddle, Khutulun adds, “My father and I are Mongols. We do not turn on our own.”

Just as suddenly as she gave, Kokachin takes. Her face a mask, the blue princess says, “Yet, here we are.”

There, in the firm set of her jaw, Khutulun sees it again. This is the reason she holds back: she sees herself in the girl.

“What would you have us do?” Khutulun asks, “My father almost lost his head over his words in your favor. We would be as dead your people if we pushed any further.”

Kokachin shifts, tucking her legs under herself and rising tall. She bends her head, “I appreciate your words Khutulun, daughter of Kaidu.”

Unexpectedly, Khutulun is not vexed. Instead, she finds, her interests in this girl is suddenly even more aroused. She has never found another who is cut from the same cloth as she. Khutulun leans towards Kokachin, delighted by the way the blue princess seems unsettled by her attention.

“What do you know of rebellion, princess? Tell me tales of your defiance,” Khutulun says, her voice low and deep.

Kokachin seems to contemplate Khutulun’s words before she says, after several seconds, “I have none.”

“Truly? None?” Khutulun asks, “Do you not consider this day to be one that speaks of your defiance?”

Watching the girl closely, Khutulun can see the girl’s mask slip. It is not a great change but it is worthy of note. Kokachin’s eyes widen and she seems to hold her breath. Before Khutulun’s eyes, she is unnerved yet only for a moment. Then the mask slides back into place.

Kokachin shifts again, moving her skirt to cover her shoes.

Moving closer, Khutulun takes note of her captive’s boots. They are made of fine leather, richly decorated by painted rearing horses on each side but they are well worn and dusty.

Also, Khutulun thinks, Kokachin seems to be wearing her boots on the wrong feet. It is not easily recognized but the tips of the boots curve just slightly outward and the effect does not seem correct.

It is very strange indeed.

“When they said Kokachin the blue princess was a proud woman, I prepared myself. I imagined you would defend your title with your life. I thought you would not be taken easily, if you could be taken at all,” Khutulun says, “Imagine my surprise to find you.”

“What do you mean?” the blue princess asks. There is a flash of pink as her tongue darts to lick her lips.

The girl fidget again, her deel slipping to reveal the top of her boots. The leather seems to be much too tight around the girl’s calves. The boots are also too small for her.

Interesting.

“You are not what I expected,” Khutulun says.

The girl, this blue princess, does not look much like her parents either. Khutulun had noticed before. The girl had eyes too spread apart, hair just a bit too light, and a nose and mouth very different from her father and mother’s.

“I am who I am,” Kokachin says, staring intently away from Khutulun.

“Indeed,” Khutulun says, “Although, I suppose there is something admirable about your resistance.”

“And what resistance do you think I have? I gave myself fully to the Khan. I am his to use as he wishes,” Kokachin says. Again, she reveals. Her voice becomes unbearably weary, almost pained.

“Some would say you should have died. They would say death is better than the dishonor of the fate before you,” The girl’s face becomes hard like a stone until Khutulun adds, “I am not among those fools. I love being alive. Death is permanent and fixed. Life can be whatever you wish it to be.

Kokachin scoffs, “For some, that may be true. For others, we are blades of grass in the wind, either moved as commanded by the wind or blow away into nothingness.”

“So you dislike this new world you have been thrust into?” Khutulun says, “You resent the Khan for sparing you.”

“I did not say that,” Kokachin snaps, “I do as I must. If it is my fate to be the last Bayaut, then so be it. I will carry their names.”

“No,” Khutulun says.

“No what?” Kokachin asks, her eyes lifting to meet Khutulun’s.

“I think not,” Khutulun says, “I think, you moved by instinct. This was not planned. Now, you worry if you will know what to do next. You know your actions have weight and that is a pressing concern.”

“Is that what you think?” Kokachin asks, “And why is that?”

“You and I,” Khutulun says, “We are not very different. You do not know because you do not see but it is true.”

Kokachin scoffs, “We are nothing alike.”

“We are,” Khutulun says.

Sitting taller, Kokachin holds her head high, averting her eyes from Khutulun again. Her movements are so exaggerated and careful to Khutulun.

“Why do you find the thought of us being similar so egregious?” Khutulun asks, “It is to your own benefit that you might be as I am. I am the Khan’s favored niece and my father’s beloved daughter. You could be dear to them too. There is power in having their love.”

Kokachin looks ill at the thought. Khutulun does not blame her. She knows. If she had been a son, her favor would have been a birthright. It had been repugnant to her, for many years, to know she had to earn the affection which she was due. She imagines she too would find the thought of having to curry favor from one's conquerer would be near impossible.

“It is not so distasteful,” Khutulun tells her, “When you have favor, as I do, you can be as you are. By their grace, I have the power to be willful and forthright and thus I am free to do as I wish. You could be as I am.”

Kokachin shudders and Khutulun suddenly understands.

“Ah. There it is. You are not free,” Khutulun notes. “Is that why you look at me with such disgust. Do you hate me?”

Kokachin, wisely, does not respond.

“You think you have left one bondage, one slavery for another, yes?” Khutulun asks, "Do not worry. They cannot chain us, not if we do not wish to be."

The color drains from Kokachin’s face. Her breathing pained, she says, her words clearly rehearsed, "I desire only the Khan’s favor.”

Khutulun smirks. She hears the familiar steps of her brother Orus. He arrives to change guard with her.

“You are wiser than I thought,” Khutulun says. She nods at her brother by way of greeting when Orus enters. As she leaves she calls over her shoulder to the blue princess, “As you were, Kokachin of the Bayaut.”


End file.
